Graphic from the book for the top of even-numbered pages

Wind In The Treetops.

Treetops, and wind in the treetops,
    And a cloud-dappled bit of blue sky
With a bird swift across it flight winging,
    Are all I can see, as I lie
In my narrow white bed__but the wonder,
    The glory, the beauty__are there,
And I feel like a bird in its aerie,
    A prince of the kingdom of air.
Treetops, and wind in the treetops,
    And moonshine, so mystic and pale,
That the eye of some star far above it
    Peers soft through a gossamer veil;
And far down the shadowy distance
    A sleepy bird chirps in its dream
'Til out 'neath the star-powdered heavens
    Afloat on swift pinions I seem.
Out, out in the mist and the moonshine,
    Out, out o'er the slumbering world,
On, on to the end of the darkness
    Where the banners of dawn are unfurled;
'Til See, gleaming forth from night's window
    One great red-gold lamp of the sky,
While along the gray east, serried cloud banks
    Wind-routed, tumultuously fly.
"Treetops, and wind in the treetops!"
    You say__and you pity me so__
Pity m__before whom such a pageant
    E'er passes so grandly arid slow.
'Til I smile in my pain, and forgetting
    The poor ailing body's control,
See treetops, and wind in the treetops
    And myself an emancipate soul

__Louisa Cooke Don-Carlos

Sunflowers, A Book of Kansas Poems
Selected by Willard Wattles
pages 20-21
(Chicago: A. C. McClurg. 1916)
September 25, 2002 / John & Susan Howell / Wichita, Kansas /

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